


More Than Enough

by EmmaArthur



Series: Whumptober 2019 [24]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex has serious issues, Alex is self-sacrifying, Alex needs a hug, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Michael Needs a Hug, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, Whumptober, injuries, very angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 09:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaArthur/pseuds/EmmaArthur
Summary: Alex has never been good enough.





	More Than Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober day 27: **Ransom**.
> 
> This one got away from me again. It's pretty angsty, and Alex has serious self-worth issues.
> 
> [mental health issues, seriously unhealthy coping mechanisms, gunshot wounds, kidnapping]

Alex has never been good enough. At this point, it's just a fact of life. He wasn't good enough to make his mother stay, or take her with him (he knows all the reasons why she says she left, but it's what it boils down to, really). He wasn't a good enough son for his father (Dad has told him that, over and over, until it etched into his mind). He wasn't a good enough musician to run away and try his luck somewhere (he hasn't touched a guitar in ten years). He wasn't a good enough Airman to save his unit when a building collapsed on them (they're all gone now).

He was never, ever, good enough for Michael.

Alex brought him nothing but pain. He was the channel of his family's hatred for aliens, bringing it all down on Michael. He's hurt him, over and over. He tries so hard to stay away, to avoid hurting him more, but he doesn't even have enough control of himself for that, like a piece of iron attracted by a magnet.

Like a planet orbiting around a sun. Michael is his sun, hot and blinding (so attractive). Alex is a bare, burnt planet devoid of life.

And the little ball sitting in Michael's hand is the comet that will destroy them all.

Alex kneels on the floor of the dirty parking lot and stares at it. It's a bomb. A biochemical weapon, built to destroy every piece of alien DNA that remains on earth (three people, four organic pods, one defunct).

Slowly, oh so slowly, the ball floats away from Michael's hand. Michael has a look that's half focus and half disgust on his face, and Alex doesn't need to look to know that most of that disgust is directed at him.

Flint roughly pulls Alex up, making him stumble. His hands are sill attached behind his back with a zip tie, so he doesn't have the balance necessary to walk on his prosthetic.

“Go,” Flint groans into his ear. “Slowly.”

Alex obeys, for lack of another option. He limps over to where Michael and the others stand, leaving his two brothers and their henchmen behind. He passes between the floating ball and the equally levitating hard drive, that he knows contains everything they've been able to gather about aliens, from Caulfield, from Noah's ramblings, and from the new facility upstate.

Michael, Max and Isobel are giving that up for him.

(He doesn't understand.)

He wants to yell at them to stop, that they can't exchange all that against just him, that the bomb is meant to kill them. He wants to tell them that he's not worth that, he never will be. But he can feel Flint's glare burning through his back, so he walks.

Unable to meet anyone's eyes, he keeps his head down until he reaches where Michael is standing, two steps in front of the others. Michael gives him a nod, his face unreadable.

Alex turns to watch his brother catch the ball and the hard drive.

“Thank you,” Flint says with a smirk. “I hope he was worth it.”

Alex stays perfectly still, staring at him. The four men go back to their car, a large SUV with stained windows, and drive away.

“Alex!” Liz exclaims, jumping into his arms. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” he reassures her. He's exhausted and bruised and hurting more than a little, but it doesn't matter right now. He pushes her away gently, the touch making his skin crawling. “Michael. Max, Isobel,” he says, looking down at his shoes. “You shouldn't have accepted the exchange. This was too important.”

“You're more important,” Michael says immediately, moving into his space. Alex wants to step away. They haven't been this close since Caulfield.

Michael choosing to date Maria hurt (destroyed him), but it was just a matter of time before he realized Alex wasn't worth the trouble. Alex tried, really hard, to stay out of his life since then, interacting only when necessary for their work on Project Shepard.

He wants Michael's comfort, his hands on him, his mouth on his, so hard it hurts.

“No,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

“We'll stop them another way,” Isobel says, while Max comes close enough to cut the zip tie holding Alex's hands behind his back.

“Here you go,” he says.

Alex stands back, away from everyone. He feels their eyes on him, and he swallows hard. He should thank them, he think. For sacrificing so much to get him back.

The words don't make it past his lips. They sound wrong. He can't be grateful, not when he's so terrified.

“They have the bomb,” he says instead.

“It's not complete,” Liz answers. “I had a little time to study it. They still need a trigger, and without a biochemist, they can't build one.”

“They can find a biochemist,” Alex mutters.

This is all on him. He got himself captured, giving them leverage over his friends, to ask for a ransom. And all of it is because of his family. His father died from the blow to the head Kyle gave him, but now his brothers have taken over. The family legacy, indeed.

Alex would rip it all to pieces if he could, but he's not even good enough for that.

He wasn't good enough to save Michael's mother and the other aliens in Caulfield. He wasn't good enough to spare Kyle the horror of becoming a killer, by dealing with his father himself. He wasn't good enough to stop them all from falling apart, after Max died resurrecting Rosa. He had no part in getting Max back, but he failed at dealing with the rest of Project Shepard while he was gone. And now, after finally finding the bomb, he's the reason they just had to let it go.

(He's not worth it.)

“Let's go home,” Michael says quietly, not looking at Alex.

Alex nods once, blinking back tears.

“Alex, what the fuck are you doing?”

Alex looks up from his monitor, blinking sluggishly. “What?”

“You're supposed to be resting!” Michael exclaims, too loud, walking too close until he's towering over Alex.

It's been two weeks since they gave up the bomb as Alex's ransom. Every day, it's probably closer to completion. All their data is gone too, since part of the exchange was that Kyle wipe it off their computers when transferring it onto the hard drive. They're at least two steps behind Flint, and it's a dangerous situation to be in.

Alex dreams of his friends going up in flames every time he dozes off. He knows the bomb doesn't work like that, that it's a gas that will probably be released into the water supply, but it doesn't keep him from waking up screaming (it's worse).

“I'm fine,” Alex says. The bunker has become useless since the data is gone, so he's working from his cabin to track his brothers.

“Alex, Valenti nearly admitted you last night. You're not fine.”

“I'm fine enough,” Alex amends. He feels like he's been run over a truck, but the exhaustion actually eases the anxiety a little. Or at least, it worked until he collapsed last night and Kyle ended up sedating him to make him sleep.

(It made him lose a whole six hours.)

(He can't afford it.)

“You're going back to bed,” Michael says, and Alex wonders why he's even there. Have they set up an Alex watch, now? Michael hasn't been here since−

He hasn't been here, period.

(Only in Alex's dreams.)

“Why are you here?”

“'Cause I was worried, dork. I was here last night too, but you were sleeping.”

So they set up an Alex watch, and even roped Michael into it.

“Don't you have better things to do?” Alex asks.

Michael pinches the bridge of his nose. “You're a stubborn jackass, aren't you?”

“I'm just...invested,” Alex mutters.

“Obsessed is more like it. This isn't healthy, Alex.”

You're one to talk, Alex wants to say. He doesn't, because Michael is right. He's obsessed with finding the bomb so it doesn't kill his friends. How can he not be?

(It's all his fault.)

“I have to find them,” Alex says.

Michael sighs, dropping onto a chair. He stares at Alex, so Alex looks back at his monitor, uncomfortable.

“What did they do to you, Alex?” Michael asks.

Alex flinches in surprise. “What?”

“Ever since we came back, you've been−”

It's not since they came back. Alex know, confusedly, that something changed, though his sense of time is skewed. It started before, he thinks. In Caulfield? Maybe. Or that day he spent waiting for Michael at the junkyard. He can't pinpoint it.

It's all a blur now, anyway.

(All his brothers did was expose the truth.)

“It doesn't matter,” he says.

“Of course it does!” Michael protests.

Alex shakes his head. “I'm close. I need to find them.”

“No, you need to rest, Alex. You haven't been sleeping.”

All I can see is you getting blown up, so no, I haven't been sleeping. Alex doesn't say it. Michael doesn't need that mental image. His own is largely fed by his experiences in the field, by the explosion that left him trapped under a collapsed building.

(It's so real it's hard to breath.)

“I've got a lead. I'll rest afterwards,” Alex says, closing the conversation and turning his attention back to his computer.

Michael says something, but he ignores him. His brothers have left few electronic traces, but Alex finally has an ID on the two airmen that work with them, and they're not as careful. They've booked motel rooms with their credit cards, several time in the last two weeks. That, combined with Alex's memory of their car license plate, should get him somewhere.

His eyes are tired, switching between monitors and traffic cameras. Michael is still trying to get his attention. He's on his phone with someone, now.

“Got them,” Alex mutters under his breath when he spots the car. “Fuck, they're close. They wouldn't come back to Roswell if they didn't have a working bomb. We need to stop them.”

He looks around him, but Michael's not here anymore. Frantically, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Max. “They're on the interstate,” he says when Max picks up, without letting him talk. “Heading into town.”

“What?” Max asks, confused.

“My brothers,” Alex explains, exasperated at his slowness. “We need to stop them now. Don't go alone. I'll meet you there.”

“Alex, wait−”

Alex hangs up. He grabs his keys, hoping that he can see straight enough to drive. His eyes haven't appreciated how much he's strained them lately.

(He's so fucking tired.)

He drives straight to the town limit and turns his car so it blocks the road. There aren't many cars coming in at this hour, and his brothers should be there in minutes, if his calculations are right. He takes his gun out of the glove compartment.

He's ready.

(He's got a debt to pay.)

“Alex!” Michael screams as he runs out of Max's car.

Alex is on the floor, his shirt quickly soaking up with blood. Michael ignore the man shooting at him in favor of dropping to his knees in front of Alex. Max shoots back, and soon the man has joined the other three on the floor in the middle of the street.

Michael presses over Alex's wound with his hand. “Max, I need you here!” he shouts.

Alex is loosing a lot of blood. He's barely conscious, leaning into Michael's embrace, his eyes half-open. “Dammit Alex. Why did you have to do that for?”

“Payback,” Alex murmurs.

Revenge? Against his brothers? That doesn't seem like Alex. Is that what's been motivating him so much these last few weeks? Is it about his father's death?

“For you,” Alex adds before he closes his eyes.

“What?” Michael asks, but he's unresponsive.

Max crouches beside them, laying a hand on Alex's chest, under the bloody shirt. “I can't heal him like before,” he says.

“I know,” Michael answers. “Just do your best.”

Max concentrates, and his hand starts glowing. He's been struggling with his ability, since his resurrection. It's only now, over a month later, starting to come back with any kind of consistency, and it's weak, nothing like the power he yielded to bring Rosa back to life.

Michael feels the blood flow under his hand slow, and then stop. Max lets go after a minute and stumbles back, exhausted.

“That's the best I can do,” he says. “The wound's closed superficially, but the damage is still there.”

“Thank you,” Michael says, truly meaning it. Given how much he was bleeding, he doesn't think Alex would have survived waiting for an ambulance.

They can't bring him to the hospital, not with a partly healed wound that looks fresh, so Michael fishes out his phone. He doesn't let go of Alex, who's still not moving. He calls Valenti one-handed, stuffing his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he adjusts his grip on Alex, and tells Valenti what happened.

“Bring him back to his cabin,” Valenti says when he's described Alex's state. “I'll meet you there with supplies.”

Max stumbles to his car to drink a whole bottle of acetone, and comes back stronger, to help Michael move Alex over to the car. “You drive there,” he says. “I need to take care of them.” He waves to the other car, and the four men in various states of unconsciousness lying beside it. “It looks like they have the bomb with them.”

“We're safe?”

“We're safe,” Max confirms.

Michael nods, and arranges Alex in the passenger seat, pulling back the seat so he's more comfortable. “Thank you,” he says again.

Max nods and walks away.

Valenti is already there when he arrives at Alex's cabin. Michael uses his telekinesis and his arms to get Alex all the way to his bed, and lets Valenti take over, though he refuses to leave the room. Once Valenti has confirmed that Alex is going to be okay with a lot of rest and recuperation and set up a saline and painkiller IV, Michael sits down cross-legged on the free side of the bed and waits.

It's been a strange few months, and he'll admit that he's lost track of many things, in his initial spiral down after Max's death, and in the exhilaration of getting him back. Somewhere along the way, he missed what was happening to Alex.

He still doesn't know what it is, to tell the truth. He knows he hurt Alex deeply by going to Maria, and Alex seemed to avoid him, after that. Michael tried to give him space, even after he and Maria broke up when she found out the truth about aliens. He knows what it feel like to be walked away from, after all.

But then...Alex didn't come back. And that's where he missed some kind of wild turn. He missed Jesse Manes' death at the hospital, for one thing. That must have shaken him. Valenti, the only one Alex let see him with any kind of consistency, says that Alex came to work down in his father's bunker at all hours, and stayed there whole nights.

And then, seemingly suddenly, Alex located another facility, one that didn't hold alien prisoners but a biochemical bomb, meant to wipe aliens off the planet. But they separated while they were investigating it, and, out of the blue, Michael received a video call from Flint Manes, holding his younger brother hostage. Him for the bomb, was the ransom.

It wasn't even a question in Michael's mind. Damn the consequences, he couldn't leave Alex in his brothers' hands for even one more hour. It took five to get Alex back.

Only...Flint must have done something to Alex. In Michael's mind, that's the only possible answer to the state Alex has been in since. He hasn't been sleeping, or eating much, and it show on his body, the weight he's lost. He's been in front of his computer the whole time, obsessing over finding his brothers, until he ignored even the people who came to see him. Out of desperation, they set up a roster, to have someone with him at all time, because it was the only way to get him to even drink anything. Alex didn't seem to notice.

Michael almost had a heart attack last night, when Alex collapsed and wouldn't wake up again. Valenti said it was just exhaustion, but it scared him. It would have scared him into actually doing something, which he should have done a week ago, if Alex hadn't stormed out while he was in the bathroom.

“Hey,” he says, shaking himself out of his thoughts as Alex's eyes flutter open.

“What happened?” Alex asks sluggishly, looking around him.

“You got shot. Max healed you, but only partially.”

“My brothers?”

“Alive, and in the hospital,” Michael relays Max's latest report. “We've got the bomb, and enough evidence against them to convict them. It's over.”

Alex closes his eyes, breathing through his nose. When he opens them again, they've gone emotionless. “Good,” he says.

“How do you feel?” Michael asks.

“Fine,” Alex says, too quickly.

Michael has heard that answer too many times. “No, you're not,” he says, frowning.

Alex shrugs, and winces. He presses a hand to his injured side.

“That's gonna hurt for a while,” Michael says.

“I've had worse.”

“Alex, you almost died. If I hadn't gotten there with Max−”

“But you did,” Alex says. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn't.

“I can't lose you, Alex,” Michael says. He knows it probably isn't fair, when he's the one who walked away this time. But he needs to say it. “You've been...the last few weeks, you've run yourself to the ground, and today you almost died, and I can't do this, Alex. I can't. I can't watch you destroy yourself.”

“Then...” Alex frowns, confused. “Why are you here?”

Michael wants to hit his head on a wall. “I'm here because I care about you!”

Alex shakes his head, and he looks like he wants to be anywhere else but here.

Michael tries to give him a moment, but it's too heavy, too uncomfortable.

“Alex,” he starts. “Earlier, when I asked you why you did all this, you said 'payback'. What did you mean? Is it about your father's death? Or something else?”

Alex frowns again. “I needed to pay you back,” he says, like it's obvious.

“What do you mean?”

“You payed that ransom, and it was too high a price. The bomb was more important than me. I had to make it write.”

“Pay me back,” Michael understands, the bottom of his stomach dropping.

Alex nods, as if relieved that he's understood.

“But you were more important than the bomb,” Michael says. “Of course you were!”

“Why? I'm just one person, one life against at least three. I'm not worth that. I'm not worth−” he doesn't finish.

_I'm not worth anything_ , Michael hears the unspoken word.

“Alex, look at me,” Michael demands. Alex meets his eyes, briefly, and looks down again. To hell with caution and letting Alex move on. “You are worth so much to me. To all of us. But to me most of all.”

“I'm not good enough for you,” Alex says.

“Why are you saying that?”

“Can't you see it? It's so obvious. Maria and you are good people. You deserve each other.”

“We broke up,” Michael says, unsure how to react to the rest.

Alex swallows. “I'm sorry,” he says.

“No, it wasn't meant to be. Not when I'm in love with someone else.”

“You need to let me go,” Alex says, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Why?” Michael asks, almost afraid of the answer. “I love you, Alex. You said you loved me. Are you saying you don't, anymore?”

Alex closes his eyes. “I love you,” he says. “I love you too much. That's the problem. I can't be what you need me to be.”

“I need you to be you,” Michael says. He doesn't understand. What does Alex think he needs?

“It's not enough,” Alex shakes his head. “I'm not enough.”

Michael opens his mouth to deny it, but he closes it again. Where is this coming from?

_Not enough._ It echoes with something in his mind, something Alex once said.  _I'm never going to be good enough for my father. _ Michael closes his eyes.

Did _he_ make Alex think he wasn't enough?

(When he's the one who's not enough.)

Fuck, he did.  _Finally a real Manes man. _ _You're still the guy just looking for a reason to walk away. _ Every time. He put his own insecurity, his own fears of abandonment on Alex, and tested him. And Alex failed every test, because there was no way for him to pass.

A nd Alex didn't realize it wasn't okay, because no one has ever put him first. Just like Michael. They're each other's best ally and worst enemy.

(They make mistakes together.)

“I'm sorry,” he says.

“For what?” Alex asks, genuinely confused.

Michael can't articulate everything he's sorry for, so he settles for taking Alex's hand in his. “You are good enough,” he says. “I love you.”

(I'll put you first.)

Alex closes his eyes, and a tear rolls down his cheek.

“It's gonna be okay,” Michael murmurs.

(You're more than enough.)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was readable, given that I basically wrote it in one go. Please tell me what you think!
> 
> Tomorrow's fic should be much lighter :)


End file.
